Chevaux et Cavaliers III
Signed original lithograph.
Printed by Mourlot, Paris for the Chevaux et Cavaliers Suite.
Though a multidisciplinary artist who worked successfully in the spheres of sculpture, painting, and printmaking, in subject matter Marini tended to a narrow range of universal themes, most especially the horse and rider.
It was the horse’s power as a visual element – its long, straining muzzle and elegant musculature – that first drew Marini to interpret its form in paint and clay: ‘At the beginning of my career I rented, by chance, a studio belonging to the owner of a riding school. Consequently, I had an opportunity to draw and model horses every day; but at the time they were still far from giving me inspiration for a subjective or apocalyptic vision.’
With time, this fascination with form developed into one of allegory. In the horseman, an icon of epic and imperial strength, Marini foresaw an analogy with the militaristic hubris of the Second World War and the atomic age that proceeded it. By the time he came to produce his great graphic works of the late 1960s, his riders had lost control. Their steeds bray and champ with mad rolling eyes, lips curled and hooves nervously pawing the ground: ‘The restlessness of my horses increases with each new work; the riders become ever more impotent, losing command over the animals.’
Though a multidisciplinary artist who worked successfully in the spheres of sculpture, painting, and printmaking, in subject matter Marini tended to a narrow range of universal themes, most especially the horse and rider.
It was the horse’s power as a visual element – its long, straining muzzle and elegant musculature – that first drew Marini to interpret its form in paint and clay: ‘At the beginning of my career I rented, by chance, a studio belonging to the owner of a riding school. Consequently, I had an opportunity to draw and model horses every day; but at the time they were still far from giving me inspiration for a subjective or apocalyptic vision.’
With time, this fascination with form developed into one of allegory. In the horseman, an icon of epic and imperial strength, Marini foresaw an analogy with the militaristic hubris of the Second World War and the atomic age that proceeded it. By the time he came to produce his great graphic works of the late 1960s, his riders had lost control. Their steeds bray and champ with mad rolling eyes, lips curled and hooves nervously pawing the ground: ‘The restlessness of my horses increases with each new work; the riders become ever more impotent, losing command over the animals.’
$1,242.63
Original: $3,550.36
-65%Chevaux et Cavaliers III—
$3,550.36
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Description
Signed original lithograph.
Printed by Mourlot, Paris for the Chevaux et Cavaliers Suite.
Though a multidisciplinary artist who worked successfully in the spheres of sculpture, painting, and printmaking, in subject matter Marini tended to a narrow range of universal themes, most especially the horse and rider.
It was the horse’s power as a visual element – its long, straining muzzle and elegant musculature – that first drew Marini to interpret its form in paint and clay: ‘At the beginning of my career I rented, by chance, a studio belonging to the owner of a riding school. Consequently, I had an opportunity to draw and model horses every day; but at the time they were still far from giving me inspiration for a subjective or apocalyptic vision.’
With time, this fascination with form developed into one of allegory. In the horseman, an icon of epic and imperial strength, Marini foresaw an analogy with the militaristic hubris of the Second World War and the atomic age that proceeded it. By the time he came to produce his great graphic works of the late 1960s, his riders had lost control. Their steeds bray and champ with mad rolling eyes, lips curled and hooves nervously pawing the ground: ‘The restlessness of my horses increases with each new work; the riders become ever more impotent, losing command over the animals.’
Though a multidisciplinary artist who worked successfully in the spheres of sculpture, painting, and printmaking, in subject matter Marini tended to a narrow range of universal themes, most especially the horse and rider.
It was the horse’s power as a visual element – its long, straining muzzle and elegant musculature – that first drew Marini to interpret its form in paint and clay: ‘At the beginning of my career I rented, by chance, a studio belonging to the owner of a riding school. Consequently, I had an opportunity to draw and model horses every day; but at the time they were still far from giving me inspiration for a subjective or apocalyptic vision.’
With time, this fascination with form developed into one of allegory. In the horseman, an icon of epic and imperial strength, Marini foresaw an analogy with the militaristic hubris of the Second World War and the atomic age that proceeded it. By the time he came to produce his great graphic works of the late 1960s, his riders had lost control. Their steeds bray and champ with mad rolling eyes, lips curled and hooves nervously pawing the ground: ‘The restlessness of my horses increases with each new work; the riders become ever more impotent, losing command over the animals.’
